Lie To Me
by DracoDew17
Summary: AU Post Season 2.  Sydney, disillusioned with her life after SD6, goes looking for answers.  Sarkney.


A/N: I wrote this quite some time ago, but I never did post it up here until now. This is the one and only Alias/Sarkney fic I've ever written and if all the Draco/Hermione plot bunnies continue, it looks like it'll be the only one for a while. All you need to know is that it's AU Post Season 2, where Sydney never went missing and Sark was never captured. Enjoy:)

Disclaimer: I don't own anything. J.J. owns everything.

**Lie To Me**

SD-6 was gone.

It was an absolute in Sydney Bristow's life that she was having trouble reconciling with the rest of her day-to-day activities, leaving her disillusioned with her current situation.

The problem with being a double agent, Sydney had learned, was that you trained yourself to be aware at all times, every moment was spent lying to somebody. Whether it was your family, your friends, or yourself, someone was facing deception without knowing it.

Maybe at some point, you even forgot who it was you were supposed to be fooling.

Every mission was covert, every dead drop an elaborate scheme, and the disguises you used became more familiar than your own face. The long hours, the surveillance of enemies, being one step ahead or it would cost you your life. This is what she knew and lived by, and Sydney was nothing if not a survivor.

And when it was all over?

Having a corner desk in the CIA rotunda filling out paperwork is not exactly what she had in mind.

Losing her two best friends, Francie to a murderous double and Will to witness protection, just made it worse. Perhaps she'd been a spy so long she'd forgotten how to be anything else, forgotten how to be normal and have a normal job and keep normal hours. But who could blame her when it was in her blood.

Her father, she knew, was happy to see her behind a desk, not putting her life on the line for God and country. Arvin Sloane was in prison so she needn't risk anything else to see him brought down. Her mother, however, was where she seemingly always was, on the run and most likely, heading up yet another criminal organization.

Vaughn agreed with her father. She could see in his eyes how pleased he was that the woman he loved had been taken out of the path of danger. The green brightened every time he saw her seated at the desk across from him, pecking away at the paperwork.

Every time that happened she felt as if she was itching to get out of her own skin and leave this monotonous life behind. She was not a desk-job sort of girl and since the dissolution of the Alliance, she had been taken off active duty.

Some days, she felt as if she would simply go crazy from having so much free-time on her hands. Ever since finding out the truth about SD-6, it was what she had worked for and she'd even told Vaughn that she was out once it was resolved, but now all she felt was restless.

_'You've worked hard enough over the past two years,'_ Kendall had said. _'Don't you think it's time you gave yourself a break?'_

_No,_ Sydney remembered thinking, _it's not that simple._

All this, coupled with a need to know what would be coming next, sent her on an obsessive search for answers, which led her here.

To a small café right down the street from the Trevi Fountain in Rome: history and capitalism all in the same breath of air. She'd told Vaughn she needed to get away for awhile, to see the world when she wasn't on a life-or-death mission. She just didn't tell him where she was going or who she would be meeting.

Sydney remembered his method of contact from their period of being colleagues at SD-6 and used it wisely. A post on the Wine Lover's message board asking about a case of '82 Chateau Petreuse embedded with the phrase, _'I've found a diamond in the rough.'_ A week later, she received a postcard of the fountain in the mail. It had the address of the café on the back with only three other words.

_Come alone, Sydney._

The girl in question was beginning to feel very foolish for coming to meet an expert assassin with not a single person on back-up, but she figured he would have killed her last year when he had ample opportunity if he wanted her dead.

The waitress, a slight girl who was quite obviously a student working to pay off her university debts, crossed back over to Sydney's table to check on her customer.

"Lei amerebbe per sentire nostro speciale? La minestra di pomodoro è molto buona," she said as she stubbornly tried to hand Sydney a menu.

"No, la ringrazia," Sydney waved her off, having ate on the flight over. "Farò appena ha un altro caffè, per favore."

The girl went to fetch another coffee, as requested, and Sydney turned to resume her people-watching when something crossed the corner of her eye.

He was sitting at her table, all nonchalant elegance in a thousand-dollar suit with Gucci sunglasses. The sun caught the light ends of his hair and if she didn't know any better, she'd say he looked almost angelic.

"Sark."

The word escaped her lips on an intake of breath as if the sheer sight of him had knocked the wind out of her. Maybe she was expecting him to be suffering the same way she was and seeing him looking as immaculate as ever was a torture in itself.

"Agent Bristow," he returned, his voice distinguished by its clipped, British accent, a note of curiosity tinged the greeting. "To what do I owe the pleasure?" he asked, cynicism now the tone of the moment.

Her lips pulled tight at the sarcasm, irritation beginning to bubble to the surface. Why had this been a good idea again?

"I was hoping you could provide me with some answers."

His eyebrow rose at that. "If I may inquire, answers to what?"

Sydney shifted in her seat to delay the reply she knew would be forthcoming. It was hard to admit you weren't exactly sure what you were searching for. "I need to know the truth."

For the first time since he sat down, he removed the sunglasses which kept his eyes hidden and surveyed her from across the table. Sydney felt a chill run up her spine as the blue ice passed over her from head to toe as if he was looking for something that he needed to know. Seeming to find whatever it was, he stood from the café chair and laid down more than enough to cover the check.

"Let's go for a walk."

Unsure where he was going with this, Sydney had no choice but to follow as she grabbed up her purse and trailed after him down the strada, her pace increased to match his long stride.

"So, you finally figured it out, Sydney," he commented as they passed the fountain. "Bravo."

"What? Hey, what -?" she questioned as he kept moving quickly until he reached a corner and turned onto a back alley, and she found herself pressed against the brick wall of a building.

"You discovered the disappointment of being a true CIA agent; one that isn't busy being a double or performing covert missions, but compiling paperwork for the benefit of the government and all its hypocritical bureaucracy," he loomed over her, his weight keeping her pinned in place. "You completed innumerable missions for them, but they've put you behind a desk," his voice whispered in her ear, his breath hot against her skin.

"If you already knew all that, why the need to lead me away from the café?" she asked, her voice strong in spite of the way his proximity was causing her to feel.

"To prove a point, as always," he replied, smooth as melting chocolate against her cheek.

Alarms went off in her head when she felt the skin of his hands slide up her outer thighs to the hem of her modest skirt, bringing the fabric along with them and exposing her black cotton panties. The forefinger of his right hand traced the line of elastic next to her hipbone before slipping inside.

Stopping him never even occurred to her though she knew it should have. The Sydney Bristow of last year would have never let Sark touch her so indecently, but she knew the truth she was searching for would come at a high price and it was time to pay the teller.

He reached the outer-lips of her pussy, his fingers curling in the neatly trimmed hair he found there, and checked to see how wet she was. "You see," he continued to whisper in her ear, his voice buzzing inside her head, making her body tingle, "you are your mother's daughter. You need the deception and the intrigue like most people need food and water."

His finger glided inside her, his thumb brushing across her clit, as her lips opened on a gasp. It slowly rocked against her walls in a rhythm designed to drive her crazy. "Every time your father looks at you, he sees Irina, and it scares him because he wasn't enough for her either. She left him for the adrenaline rush of being spy instead of a lowly housewife."

The tip of his fingernail scraped a particularly sensitive spot and she had to bite down on her lip to keep from crying out. He added another finger and then another. "Even you can see that the lies are a part of you, and sometimes you can't remember when the aliases end and you begin. They define every facet of who you are and who you've trained yourself to be."

A twist of her clit and she was on the edge. "Agent Vaughn knows it every time you're together. He'd be happier if you gave up the spy-game altogether. You could run off and be teachers together and raise two-point-five kids in a house with a picket-fence." One more thrust of his hand and she was coming apart in his arms. "What you have to face is that you'll never change. You'll _**always**_ be a spy."

When she was strong enough to stand on her own, he removed his hand from beneath her skirt and licked her spendings from his fingers, his face set in a self-satisfied expression. Sydney just stared at the opposite wall, her eyes blank as she repeated his words over in his mind.

Deciding he'd done enough damage for one day, he replaced his sunglasses over his eyes and checked his watch. It was starting to get late and he had a dinner appointment. Glancing up, he crossed over to where she continued to stand propped against the wall. He leaned over and placed a soft, gentle kiss on her cheek as she closed her eyes.

"You know how to find me."

When she reopened them, he was gone.

The sun was beginning to set off in the distance and Sydney felt she should get something to eat before returning to her hotel and calling it a night. She started off in search of a restaurant but before she left the alley, she turned to look back at the place where Sark had stripped her of her defenses.

Maybe lies were better after all.

_The End_

A/N: That Sark is so naughty! Well, I hope you enjoyed it. Please leave me a review if you'd be so kind. Until next time. :)


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